


Solitude

by Malgelir



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Death, Depression, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Loss, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24128863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malgelir/pseuds/Malgelir
Summary: Broken and Alone...
Kudos: 1





	Solitude

Laying down in their bed, in her black underwears.   
Staring at the ceiling while smoking cigarettes,   
His favourite cigarettes.   
One after the other.   
His T-shirt, that she loved, lying flat by her side, steeped with his perfume.   
Beer cans all around the room. A room so full of smoke, that she can hardly see.   
Or is it the tears that have been running non-stop down her cheeks?  
He didn't like it, but he loved her even when she was crying. He was always astonished by the way her emerald eyes were blazing every time mist gathered due to happiness, or even sadness. He prefered happiness though. Would he love her now she wondered.   
Half-awake, half sleeping, lost in a comatose phase, thinking about him.   
His name escaping her lips muffled with a sob.   
How long has it been since he left? ...Two days right? Two days... Yet it seems like an eternity.   
All of his stuff is still there. His clothes, his backpack, his pair of keys... his toothbrush.  
Pictures of them scattered all around the floor. Some of them in tatters. Maybe most of them. One has only a small tear. She couldn't bear to keep that up... she couldn't bear to rip his smiling face once again. Even though he was long gone.   
Her hand is bleeding, pierced by the silver - crescent moon - necklace he once gave her. His first gift, that now she is tightly holding. She used to wear it all the time, but these past two days it has been choking her. She cannot feel the pain, though. Not a physical one at least. Emotionally she is nub now. She is void.   
When he left she screamed, she cried, she broke his computer, tore most of his clothes, threw most of his presents.   
Yet why was he still there? Why couldn't she destroy her memories? How could she erase his smile or his voice from her mind? She wanted them all gone! Gone like he was!   
Why? Why did he leave, even though he said he wouldn't. He took everything. Heart, and soul and mind. Everything was his. And they both knew it. He had promised. Many times.  
Her skin still marked by his touch... hickeys, adorning her white skin from her neck down to her alluring collarbone, beautiful breasts and delicate waist... proof of his existence and she wants nothing more than eradicating her skin. Not only because of those fade love bites... they are almost fully eroded after all. Mostly because of the tattoo. That matching tattoo that they decided to have on their fifth-year anniversary. A sun on her hand, a moon on his. That what they were for each other. He was her moon, the only light in the darkness of her life. A darkness that she used to love. Now she is drowning... And she... she was his light and warmth, his little princess ... or maybe his queen.   
At least that's what he used to say every time he made love to her. Every time his lips were running down her body, making her tremble at his touch, turning her into a moaning mess.   
Thoughts like these cross her mind and her eyes light up, full of pain and lust. Slowly she touches herself in need of affection, full of guilt... Once again she shivers, once again her back arches, and she can sense him hovering her. Once again she screams his name while she cums. But this time when she opens her eyes yearning for a kiss he is not there. Once again the realization strikes her.   
He is gone.  
He has truly left.   
That night he opened the door, allowing the cold breeze to enter the room, and vanished in the pitch-black night.   
Why did he leave?  
She cannot remember.  
Did they fight?  
She cannot remember. But the picture of him leaving is engraved on her mind.   
He never said he is coming back, she thinks. Every time he used to say that he would be back. That time he didn't say it. And he never returned.   
She was dying to know where he was... if he was ok. If he was happy.   
Her cell-phone rings and their favourite song fills up the room.   
She grabs it and smashes it, as she throws it to the wall.   
"One more," she thinks as she grabs the lighter.  
With smoke escaping her swollen lips, she gets up using all the strength that's left in her.   
She walks towards his jacket- the one he left behind- and takes his pocket knife.   
Flirting with the idea of taking her own life. Flirting with the idea of ending the pain of his absence.  
She places the barb on her wrist, enjoying the feel of the cold metal on her scorching skin.   
She takes a big breath, feeling ready to apply more pressure.   
...And then her eyes focus on a photograph that she had long forgotten. Her "ex"-boyfriend. Smiling for her showing off his healed wounds, He used to harm himself. But he had managed to get throw it. He was already healing when they first met and she helped him get over it once and for all. They were 22 years old when this happened. Just two lost "kids" that found each other.  
... Instantly she drops the knife and tears start falling again, twice as much, if that was even possible. She grabs a plastic bag and throws everything inside. Cans, cigarette stubs, torn clothes etc. In a small box, she collects the photos and their pieces. She changes the bedding and walks in the shower.   
Hot water runs her body washing away the tears and dirt. Not the pain... And she starts to believe that this will never be gone. She gets out of the bathtub and wears one of his shirts. It still smells like him and she has to hold on to something in order to keep standing. She walks in their - no- her bedroom opening the windows letting the winter air invade the room hoping it will anaesthetize her. She lies on her bed finally exhausted, thinking that she might be able to sleep this time. She looks around the now-clean room and her eyes fix on a helmet left by the door.  
The one that he didn't take with him that night... 

-Malgelir


End file.
